


Safeguard

by bumblebeesknees



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e07 How Are Thou Fallen, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Minor Violence, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeesknees/pseuds/bumblebeesknees
Summary: When he gets into a spot of trouble involving renegade vampires at the Hotel DuMort, Magnus discovers there's more than what meets the eye with the omamori Alec gave him. He goes back to Tokyo to solve the mystery.-Magnus thinks, how embarrassing if I die like this, before he realizes that he's completely fine; the bullets have stopped in their trajectory, floating in front of him and illuminated with a soft, golden light.





	Safeguard

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to [angels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9HlQTvF4uw) by the xx on repeat for HOURS while writing this!! this concept is something that has been haunting me since i watched 2x07 and thought, "what if. _what if_." this means that there's also a lot of made up magical theory nonsense that i had a lot of fun exploring :DD
> 
> hope you enjoy reading!!

The Hotel DuMort needs better wards. Of course, Magnus only makes a mental note of it and doesn't voice these concerns: after all, he was the one who _put in_ those wards the first time around, a favour for a dear friend and not–so–dear ex–lover. It was only a few years ago, but still before Magnus went through his phase of learning magic that parses out intention.

The result of this is that the summit for vampire covens along the east coast to deal with the threat of the Soul Sword, hosted graciously by Raphael and his kin, grows wildly out of control when a faction of the attendants turn out to be under the Circle's control and start to slaughter various key delegates.

Magnus, not being one of the night children, wasn't even supposed to be present at this gathering. The combination of an open bar, the promise of Raphael's cutting commentary, and desperately missing Alec – who is at Idris for the weekend, no doubt attending to important matters and looking very handsome while doing so – made the decision for him. He regrets his easily bored disposition as he despairingly watches his drink get flung out of his hand and his favourite periwinkle blue tunic gets splattered in vampire blood.

Deeply resigned, Magnus rolls up his sleeves, feels his magic glow hot as it coalesces into a burning ball of blue fire in his palms. "I expect you to pay to have this dry cleaned."

"You're richer than the President and also, this is completely not the right time," says Raphael, evading attacks and snapping necks at an impressive speed. It's a bloodbath. It's – dare Magnus even say it – total pandemonium.

"Just putting it out there." Magnus throws the fireballs at his target, watching with grim satisfaction as the flames burn up the vampire about to get a leg up on Raphael.

He wishes he could just conjure up a prolonged burst of sunlight and let that be the end of it but alas, there were too many others who Magnus had gotten quite fond of that would get caught up as collateral damage.

Okay, it was only one person, but nonetheless. The loss of _somewhat_ innocent lives should be avoided at all costs.

It's a factual statement to say that Magnus fares excellently in fights, be it against magic wielding beings or against shadowcreatures and hunters alike. He's a long range fighter but he's got versatility, and his magic covers most of the weak spots in his technique. It lends itself well to the current predicament and despite the mayhem, the situation is brought under control very quickly. The entirety of the DuMort clan along with the delegates of the other covens outnumber the attackers four to one. The main difficulty had been telling friend from foe – why do vampires all have the same, rigid definition of fashion? There's more to an undead life than all black corporate ensembles – and that gets taken care of when Magnus starts magicking the attackers' blazers into a cheery, spring green.

"I'm implementing a fucking visa system for downworlders to come into my city," snarls Raphael, tearing the throat out of the last of them before doing the same with the heart. He drops the bloody organ on the ground and kicks it away disgustedly.

"How are you planning on doing that?" Magnus conjures a handkerchief to dab away the splash of blood still hot on his cheek. He looks around the banquet room of the hotel, which looks like the site of a truly terrible massacre – which, in all fairness, it is. "You'll need an impressive pitch to even consider getting Alexander's help after your involvement with the latest Lightwood family drama."

"Thanks for offering up your boyfriend, but I don't need the Clave's stamp of approval to take care of my people."

"If only that were the case, my dear," says Magnus, imagining such a fantastical world. In his many centuries, Magnus doesn't think he's ever seen even the potential of the Clave's power being overthrown.

Raphael, unsurprisingly, ignores him.

"We'll set up an application process, block off the usual underground routes. There'll be at _least_ a three week vetting period before they can even think about stepping–"

A gunshot echoes across the hall. 

You have to be at least five hundred feet away to hear a gunshot and not have the bullet already lodged inside you. Since it would be immensely stupid to shoot a vampire – as it would do nothing but annoy them and even more determined to kill you – Magnus can only assume it was meant for him. He whips around, but the half-second it takes to command his magic is a half-second later than it takes for the green suit on the floor to pull the trigger five more times, aimed directly at Magnus' chest.

Magnus thinks, _how embarrassing if I die like this,_ before he realizes that he's completely fine; the bullets have stopped in their trajectory, floating in front of him and illuminated with a soft, golden light.

"What in the world?" he murmurs, reaching up and gently pushing one of the suspended bullets aside. He watches, with no small amount of wonder, as they drop to the ground at his touch. In that time, Raphael curses and drives a broken chair leg into green blazer's heart.

"Dios," says Raphael when he materializes at Magnus' side, eyes wide in panic. "What was that?"

"I don't know," says Magnus, frowning. "It wasn't me." Magnus' magic manifests itself in blue (and sometimes red, depending) and is a part of him, driven by intent. It's like an extra limb, rarely acting up on its own. More importantly, the magical signature, while familiar in the way of a distant memory, is certainly not Magnus' own.

Raphael nods meaningfully at Magnus and asks, "Are you sure about that?" Magnus looks down and sees that his arms – and legs, and probably his whole body – emanating the same soft light around the bullets and – oh. On his chest seems to be the answer to the mystery.

Tethered to one of the chains around his neck is the small charm Alec had gotten him during their first trip to Tokyo, and right now it's engulfed in a sphere of pure golden magic. A drop of a morning star. When he reaches through the light to touch the red fabric, a burst of warmth shoots through Magnus' veins and at once he realizes why the magical signature felt familiar: it's Alec. There is a trace of the energy that flowed through Magnus to lend him strength when he most needed it but it’s faint, blanketed by something much stronger. 

Except Alec doesn't have magic, not the craft that Magnus practices; one that uses a force bound to the very cells of his blood. And it's a similar – if not exactly the same – _something_ that Magnus feels in the gold light that's wrapped around him.

"Maybe you can whip me up one of those for emergencies." Magnus jolts back to the present when Raphael claps him on the shoulder and can feel that be the moment the protective magic dissipates. He shakes his head before surveying the carnage around them, taking note of the murderous outrage on the faces of the delegates. Raphael says, "You want to help make peace with our guests before bailing?"

Sighing, Magnus tucks the omamori – still warm – securely under his tunic. "If I must," he says, longsuffering. "I suppose I do have a flair for diplomacy."

Raphael rolls his eyes and Magnus winks at him cheerily. As High Warlock of Brooklyn – and truly all of New York City – it's his civic duty to do so. As Raphael’s de facto family, it’s his own honour to lend his assistance. 

Afterward though – Magnus needs to talk to Alec. And then take a short trip to Tokyo.

–

 

Magnus and Raphael split up to cover more ground and generally manage to placate the representatives from the hundred and seventeen covens that made the trip to New York. Staying true to the culture of incompetency at the Clave – except for Alexander, who is the brilliant, unparalleled exception that only proves the rule – shadowhunters from the New York Institute show up only when everything's been settled.

When Magnus checks his phone, there are two missed calls and ten unread text messages from Alec:

 **7:01pm**  
Why do dinner parties last til midnight

 **7:13pm**  
Trip to Idris in May to see Alicante's flower gardens y/n?

 **7:45pm**  
[pandabearcub.img]

 **8:05pm**  
Just got reports on the attack at the Hotel DuMort

 **8:05pm**  
Are u ok?

 **8:07pm**  
Magnus are u ok?

 **8:10pm**  
??

 **8:35pm**  
Got in touch with Ashwood clan, they said everything's taken care of and ur all right

 **8:37pm**  
Apparently the Institute didn't send anyone?? i sanctioned an assignment to help with the cleanup – USE THEM

 **8:50pm**  
Couldn't get hold of a portal but am trying. Call me when u can

Magnus goes through a confusing series of emotions: exasperation, delight, fond amusement, and the overwhelming warmth only Alec can invoke. Alec's – he's a lot, in a different way than Magnus is a lot. The rest of the world must be blind if they don't see the singular wonder of Alec Lightwood but Magnus has never been able to _unsee_ it, not since that night they did nothing but curl into opposite sides of Magnus' couch and talk til sunrise, Alec's angelic energy flowing through his veins and Alec's hands twisting nervously at the rag used to clean the very sofa they were sitting on. 

What a strange and beautiful boy, Magnus remembers thinking, tricked into believing he's unexceptional when in truth he burns brighter than a sun in supernova, setting all of Magnus alight.

After all the time that’s passed, this still hasn't ceased to be the case. It would be the whole and complete truth to say that Magnus marvels at Alec's existence on a daily basis. And tells him so, _repeatedly_ , delighting in the reaction it causes.

What he tries not to think about as often is the magnitude of Alec's regard for him. That's hard to do in times like the present, when his phone is blinking with indisputable evidence. It's been months and it still doesn't make sense and Magnus, like Alec, is primarily driven by logic. He can consciously feel his thoughts shy away from processing the truth of it, so incongruent with everything he knows about himself and the world and what he deserves in this world that it can't, can't possibly be it.

Magnus shakes himself out of his thoughts, unsettlingly bittersweet. Per Alec's request, he makes sure Raphael is barking out orders to the shadowhunters before slipping out of the conference hall and pulling up Alec's number.

Alec picks up before the second ring. "Magnus?"

"Hello, Alexander," says Magnus, charmed at Alec's breathless greeting. "I'm safe and sound, though the same can't be said for my tunic. Blood of the undead is a terrible hassle to get out, even with my magic."

Sighing in relief, Alec says, "I'll wash it myself if it means that none of the blood on it is yours."

"Alexander, my reputation will be ruined if people find out I'm having you do my laundry."

"Reputation as what, exactly?" asks Alec, amused.

"As a divine and legendary lover who attends to his partner's every whims and leaves him wanting for nothing but my return to the bedroom?"

"I think it's too late to worry about this after all the times I've cleaned your kitchen, watered your plants, swept the floors–"

"Ah yes, you're quite the expert in domestic matters, aren't you?" Magnus puts just enough insinuation in the sentence to suggest that by 'domestic' he really means 'blowing my mind with your mouth.' He doesn't have to see Alec to know that his ears are slowly turning red, to imagine that pleased, flustered smile on his face. He's just so delightful to tease. "I do love to watch you put your body to good use."

"If you say so," murmurs Alec, voice low and rough. Magnus' toes curl in his shoes. Clearing his throat, Alec asks, "So, um, everything's good down there?"

" _Very_ good," says Magnus. "Except that it's going to be hell explaining this to the insurance agent."

Laughing a little, Alec asks, "What exactly happened?"

Groaning, Magnus gives Alec the rundown of the summit, the vampires presumably under the Circle's influence, and Raphael's quick work in getting everything under control.

"They pulled out a gun?" Alec sounds shocked. "That's so... that's such a mundane tactic. I thought it was a matter of pride that we don't engage in those killing methods?"

"Brutal efficiency trumps all, I suppose." Though this provides the perfect opportunity to bring up a more curious matter: "I had that little amulet you got me though, and it brought me all the luck and protection I could need in that situation."

"Did it? It wasn't just you being the most capable person in the room?" Alec's smile is clear in his words. "Five hundred yen well spent, then."

Magnus realizes that Alec thinks he's joking.

"Alexander," he starts, unsure how to phrase it, "just to be clear – did you get that omamori spelled with protective charms?"

"Uh, no," says Alec slowly. "Why?"

He really doesn't know. Alec is terrible at lying, and his forthrightness is something that Magnus – with his coyness and love of double meanings – appreciates tremendously. It compels a strange, vulnerable sincerity out of Magnus, even in the midst of his most outrageous flirtations.

It also means that the mystery is yet unsolved.

"I don't know how to describe it, exactly," admits Magnus. "I need to look into it some more but I'm pretty sure that thing created a barrier around me and stopped the bullets."

"Like... like a magical shield?"

"Yes, an actual wall of magic covered my body," confirms Magnus.

"Oh." If it's possible to have a frown associated with a word, Alec is a master at delivering it. "Are you thinking it could be anything dark? It _does_ seem a little too coincidental that a weird magical object would end up in a shadowhunter's hands."

"I love it when you talk business to me," says Magnus, smiling when Alec lets out a soft burst of laughter. "I'll let you know what I dig up but honestly... it didn't feel dark at all. It felt–" It felt warm and comforting, like being in Alec's embrace, the press of his long arms around Magnus' body. He finally settles with, "Safe. It felt safe."

For a moment Alec is silent, the only sound over the line his slow, steady breathing. That's comforting too, in its own way. "Good. That's good."

Surprised, Magnus says, "That's it?"

"You understand this stuff way better than I do and if whatever's going on is legitimate, then it sounds like it could be useful," Alec points out. Practical as always. "Don't worry, the questions will come when you've dug up a bit more and it's not two in the morning for me."

That's right. Idris is in a whole other time zone. "That's very late," sighs Magnus. "You want to turn in?"

"Not yet," says Alec, and Magnus warms all over. He slides down the wall he's been leaning against in the semi–empty hallway to rest more comfortably on the ground. This entire outfit needs to be burned, anyway. Contaminants from the carpet won't make too much more difference. "I wish – I think it'd be nice if we could come here, one day. To Idris."

"Aren't we going in May to see the flower gardens?" It's a lovely thought: Magnus hasn't been to the realm of shadowhunters in decades. He's _never_ been there for reasons other than business, certainly not for the simple luxury of spending a morning with a loved one, amidst blooming blue tulips and tiny sprites napping in the hollow of roses.

"Yeah, I guess we are," says Alec, sounding at once happy and forlorn. "It's weird, you know? To think a place so beautiful can have so much ugliness inside the people."

Sympathetic, Magnus says, "Dinner party didn't go well?"

"It's exhausting, trying to be diplomatic when all you want to do is punch someone's nose in."

"Just give me the word, darling, and I'll open a portal to you right now and whisk you away," says Magnus, "violation of the Accords be damned."

"I think I can bear it for one more morning. Especially if it helps avoid an interspecies incident." The weariness in Alec's voice lessens slightly. "Enough about me. How'd the rest of the summit go, other than the part that was a disaster?"

Magnus gracefully takes his cue. "Raphael tried his best," he says in a grave tone, "but it was all terribly boring."

They end up talking for another half hour, Alec's voice growing drowsier and all the more sweeter over the length of the call. It makes Magnus reconsider portaling to Alicante, just to kiss Alec's charmingly wide forehead and watch his eyes flutter close as he drifts off to sleep.

When Magnus hangs up, it's with Alec's softly murmured, "Okay, stay safe, I'll see you soon," echoing in his ears. He feels so light and brimming with happiness that he wouldn't be surprised if he was glowing again.

–

 

Magnus takes only a brief break to change out of his clothes and wash off the remnants of the evening's political catastrophe before opening up a portal to Tokyo.

It's a little after eleven in the morning and the shops of Nakamise are already bustling with activity. Magnus hasn't been back to Japan since he portaled Alec across the country in the span of a single day. They'd ended their day here in Asakusa though, shopping bags around their feet and eating dinner on the stones by a small creek. Alec, the keen historian that he is, had left Kyoto with great reluctance even with the promise that they'll come back and spend an uninterrupted week there sometime in the future. It had been such a marvelous concept at the time: this casual discussion about the future when they were only on their third date. By then Magnus had already known that he was in love and had accepted the fact that he's in this for the long haul – if Alec thought the same way, of course.

Strange how so much has changed since then. Most of his uncertainties have been laid to rest to be replaced by new, perhaps even more paralyzing fears. When was the last time he had been so sure his heart would be treated gently by the hands that held it, and why does thinking about it cause his bones to shudder?

Magnus wraps his fingers around the omamori, still on the fine golden chain around his neck. The spell he's using to track down the seller is a unique one that follows the object's journey through time. He walks with the flow of tourists, following in reverse the path that Alec must have taken when he sneaked away to make his purchase. Magnus still doesn't know when Alec would've had the time – Magnus is sure that he hadn't lost track of him once that day.

He comes to a sudden halt, prompted by the spell. To his right is a shop with hundreds of amulets lined up for sale, no different from the tens of other souvenir stores he just passed. There are multiple colours – royal purple with silver finishing, green and gold, blue and white – but Magnus' eyes are drawn to the red and gold.

"Hello," says Magnus when the small crowd of customers move on to their next destination. He cringes at his accent, Japanese rusty from disuse. Had he sounded like this when he came here with Alec? How shameful.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with her hair wrapped up in a bun, looks up at him. Steeling himself, he holds out the charm around his neck: "Would you be the one who sold this to my friend a few months ago?"

The woman takes a cursory glance at the omamori before meeting Magnus' eyes. There's something unsettling about her gaze, even though her voice is friendly as she responds in English: "I hadn't expected my amulet to end up at the possession of another warlock."

Magnus reels back, a little surprised at her brazenness. "I'm Magnus Bane."

"Hiromi Asamoto," she shares in response. "And yes, that's my creation. I thought I sold that to a young shadowhunter, experiencing the wonders of a first love? Was that your friend?"

"It was," says Magnus, and he can't help but be pleased at the way she describes Alec. "You remember him?"

"I do," says Hiromi. "These omamori are only charmed for small forms of protection disguised as luck. Simple things like deciding to take the safer path home at night. I tend to keep in mind the people who I liked enough to give them something special."

There's a brief pause in their conversation as a German family stops by the shop, and Hiromi brightly explains the history of the Sensoji temple and role of the omamori in the Shinto religion.

Magnus patiently waits until they leave, and discreetly casts a spell to prevent further interruptions.

"So there _is_ a spell on this." Despite having known this, there's something relieving about hearing it straight from the source. "This charm saved my life today, but the magic wasn't anything I've dealt with before." At Hiromi's questioning look he explains, "It literally stopped bullets in their tracks – long story, but the point of it is that from my experience, protective spells that strong usually need... intent, and they need to be maintained."

"Maybe it would be best if I explained what exactly the magic is on the amulet," says Hiromi, eyes softening and a small smile blooming on her face. "It may help answer some of your questions. Especially since I'm sure you've figured out that, as far as natural power, I'm nowhere near as strong as you."

"To be fair, my dear, I've had almost a millennia to accumulate my craft. But don't sell yourself short – that protection spell is unlike anything I've seen."

"My involvement with what you experienced is very limited, I'm afraid." Magnus frowns, and Hiromi explains, "The spell I put on that particular omamori is a conduit. Tricky things, certainly, but nothing exceptional. When I explained to your shadowhunter what they represent, he seemed taken by the thought. I believe his exact words were, 'That's exactly what I'm looking for.'" Hiromi shrugs. "All I did was ask the magic of the shrine grounds to create a channel between it and his heart and the amulet that would amplify the initial charm based on his strength and intention." 

Hiromi nods toward Magnus' chest. "What happened to you has very little to do with my own power."

Somewhere between 'strength' and 'intention' a white noise starts to build in Magnus' ears.

"Are you telling me," he says, his voice sounding strangely distant, "that that was Alexander?"

"That was his heart's desire to have you safe," corrects Hiromi, "calling on the magic of this shrine's grounds."

Magnus is certain that not only has his ability to speak been severely impaired, but so has his capacity to think coherent thoughts. The words are stuck on repeat in his head: his heart's desire to have you safe.

Alec – it's not like Magnus doesn't know that Alec loves him. He does. _He does_. But this. Magnus doesn't know how to process this.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says, when he can form words once more.

Frowning, Hiromi says, "There was no vindictive intent, I assure you. There is no darkness in my spell."

"You still shouldn't have done that without asking him. He has no idea what you've tied his soul to." A terrible thought occurs to him. "Is this hurting him?"

In the case of impending panic – which Magnus hasn't had to deal with in well over a century, not since recovering from Camille – Magnus turns to the strategy that's always worked for him: rage. It's with a sense of relief he feels it warm up his bones, fire building in his fingertips.

Thankfully, Hiromi shakes her head. "Of course not. Your Alexander is only a catalyst, and his love invoking this protection is no different than a spell activating because someone said a specific phrase."

"How can you be so sure?" asks Magnus, gaze narrowed. In that context, it almost seems to make sense – except for the magnitude of effect of this particular charm. There's something sentient about it, able to read surroundings and react. "Magic is transformed energy and even if it's not his own, just the effort to call on it–" he cuts himself off, wanting to rip the thing off his neck and send it on its way in a ball of flames. "It just doesn't happen that easily. It can't be maintained without a cost, not something this powerful."

"But it can," she says. "Magic called upon by love doesn't ask for a personal gain and so the earth doesn't ask for a personal price. Perhaps because you have great power in your own veins you never had to seek elsewhere but I am not the same. I have an affinity for it, you could say, especially with these grounds."

What Hiromi is saying isn't quite true, of course. Even Magnus' capabilities aren't without bounds and he remembers the cosmic force inside Alec that gave him strength when he most needed it. But the magic in the trees and the mountains and deep in the earth shifting beneath his feet – concentrated around holy grounds and rifts between the worlds – is not an avenue that Magnus has ventured into. Most warlocks don't. Faeries, maybe.

There's just something dangerously unsettling about drawing on magic that is timeless and boundless. Magnus has seen a lot in his years but this – this causes a shiver to run up his spine.

And to think that it's looped into Alec's heart, brought to life by his love for Magnus. Magnus isn't sure what to do with this. Some part of him wants to reject it, still overwhelmed and unused to the reality of Alec's regard for him. But how can he deny the shield that covered him had the electric warmth of Alec's energy underneath the magic channelling the power from the grounds?

Perhaps there really isn't a price when love is the driver. Magnus needs to make sure Alec is okay. He may not be able to speak with this ancient power – that Magnus can't believe he couldn't sense before because the entire shrine is pulsing with it; perhaps the magic chooses when to reveal itself – but he's an expert at detecting dark magic, the marks it leaves on the soul.

"Mixing yourself up with magic like that – I won't pretend to understand it," he finally says. "But I can't risk benefiting from something that has even the slightest chance of harming Alec."

Pursing her lips, Hiromi says, "I must admit, this is the first time I've been met with such suspicion and hostility for something I've done out of altruism."

"It's not personal," says Magnus, because Hiromi may be someone he needs as an ally one day. But it won't change his mind. "But like most of us, I'm distrustful by nature and I've never felt the compulsion to protect the sanctity of a soul as strongly as I want to preserve Alexander's. Knowing he's involved with a magic beyond my comprehension – I can't take that chance."

He lengthens the chain holding the amulet and offers it to Hiromi, who takes it carefully in her hands. Around them, time seems to slow down. "Will you remove the spell?"

Hiromi looks at him, considering. "I will," she says at last, "but there is a price for my services, of course."

Magnus laughs, a little startled and a lot relieved. "Of course," he agrees. "Name it."

"Will you tell him about this conversation?"

The air stills in Magnus' lungs.

"I'm going to tell him that I found you, and that what happened today was a one time thing," he says at last. "But no more than that. If Alec found out about this he'd be here a day later, asking you to create more of these for his family."

Magnus cherishes this about him, as he cherishes each patchwork piece that stitch together to create Alec, in everything that he is. And the truth of it is that if Alec had gifted this unfathomable token of love to his sister, his brothers, anyone else – Magnus is self-aware enough to know that he wouldn't be doing this.

Even asking Hiromi to remove the spell strikes Magnus as intrusive, something that will eat at him for weeks and years. Of the infinite iterations of reality, there is none where Alec knowingly agrees with Magnus on this course of action. He is a warrior and a defender – it's right there in his name, a divine and fortuitous omen – and it goes against his nature. He knows that if their situations were reversed, Magnus would never give permission for Alec to break this wondrous, terrifying manifestation of his love, no matter the personal cost.

And yet.

The way Hiromi is staring at him, he suspects she knows this as well.

"Okay," she says, placing the omamori between both her palms. "Then my price is this: you don't tell anyone about the magic of this shrine's grounds. I've lived a peaceful life for the last century and a half, and I don't want that ruined by shadowhunters with the best of intentions knocking on my doors. The virtues of this spell was never meant to be revealed in such a... dramatic manner. You will also," she adds, smiling a little, "reimburse me five times the amount of potential business I've lost because you spelled my shop to be unnoticeable while we talked."

"Done and done," says Magnus. Such a strange warlock – not asking for the treasures of Cleopatra or feathers of a phoenix. Magnus has never experienced such a bargain.

"Then we have a deal," she says, and closes her eyes. As is the case with most magic, the execution of the spell is somewhat anti-climatic: the omamori glows bright, light spilling from Hiromi's fingertips before, all at once, it vanishes. Magnus feels the magic disperse into the world, a gentle wave passing through him.

Hiromi unclasps her hands and releases the amulet. "It's done."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Magnus says, "Thank you."

"No thanks needed for services paid for," says Hiromi, waving it away. "I can’t say this is what I would do in your position, but I can empathize."

He glances down at the red and gold fabric innocently sitting on his chest, now nothing more or less than what it looks like. With utmost hesitation, he asks, "How long would this charm have lasted? If I hadn't asked you to do this?"

"You know the answer to this and still you ask." Hiromi shakes her head, a physical conveyance of her bewilderment. "It would've worked for as long as he wanted you safe, Magnus," she says. "Which, to me, reads as a very long time."

–

 

By the time Magnus returns home, it's almost three in the morning. He takes off the chain with the omamori and places it above his dresser mirror and marvels at how it looks so simple and unassuming. When Alec had first given it to him, a treasured token of his growing feelings, Magnus' heart had already been touched in ways it hadn't been in well over a century. It had instantaneously become one of his most valued possessions. Every time he'd looked at the red and gold charm, he was reminded that love could be sweet; that it could be gentle.

Now when he looks at it, he's reminded that love can be vast enough to bring him to his knees.

Magnus doesn't sleep much on a good day, so tonight's a mess and a half. After an hour and a half of tossing and turning, he gives up; he pulls on his dressing gown before settling on the sofa with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and a book on druid magic. He also grabs the necklace he's fashioned out of the omamori and puts it back on, feeling a strange peace at having it rest on his chest, right by the beat of his heart.

He'll be grouchy as hell when he eventually has to make it back to the Hotel DuMort to help with day two of the summit at dusk, but he'd be even grouchier if he'd stayed lying in bed for five hours not getting anything done.

He must doze off sometime after sunrise, because he clearly remembers seeing the city skyline transition from the inky black night to the deep red of dawn to the gentle blue of early morning. Still, he's stirred to consciousness some hours later in the midmorning, when the door to the loft swings open and Alec walks in. His dark hair looks incredibly soft and when the Chairman runs to scratch his leg, Alec bends down to scratch Magnus' devil cat underneath his chin.

"What a vision you are," he murmurs blearily. His body is comfortably curled under his quilt, leaning against the armrest of the sofa. "Hello, Alexander."

"Good morning," greets Alec, walking over and getting down on a knee. He goes from being a giant to being at eye-level with Magnus and Magnus reaches to touch the smile on his lips. "You want to sleep some more?"

"Mm, no, just need a kiss from Prince Charming to get me fully awake."

Alec's head ducks down a bit, laughing a quiet laugh in the way he does when he's pleased and flustered. Magnus sighs as Alec acquiesces to his request; one of his hands curls into Magnus' hair and the press of his mouth is soft and undemanding.

As always, Alec pulls away too soon and it's all Magnus can do to not grumble. Pulling away at _any_ point would be too soon though, so Magnus supposes he can't blame him.

"I came by to see if you wanted to go out for lunch," says Alec, pushing a floppy lock of hair away from Magnus' eyes. "But you look exhausted."

"Incredibly," confirms Magnus, forcing himself to sit up and divest of his quilt. He stretches his limbs, and nearly moans in pleasure when his joints crackle and pulls at his muscles in the best way. Alec's hand absently curl over the blanket, around one of his knees. "I'm starving though, so let's order in instead. When did you get back from Idris?"

"Around 8am New York time," says Alec. "The unit sent to help at the Hotel DuMort last night wasn't too happy to have to give a mission debrief at that time but I figure they can do with some character building."

"Your methods, sadly, haven't resulted in improved performance from your team."

Making an endearing face, Alec says, "We all have our limits." Then, seemingly against his will, Alec's gaze drops to Magnus' chest where his dressing gown has fallen open. 

Magnus already feels his smile turning into something with less warmth and more heat. He's gotten far too spoiled at having Alec's divine body ready for his taking on a daily basis that three days without it leaves him yearning. The muscles in his abdomen flutter in anticipation of Alec reaching toward him and–

His fingers only brush against Magnus' skin as he picks up the omamori.

A stupidly sweet grin breaks across Alec's face. "You made this into a necklace?"

Seeing the charm cradled in Alec's huge, dexterous hands would usually light his blood on fire, but given the events of the last twelve hours – Magnus instead feels like he's been dunked into the arctic with zero warning.

"Of course," he says, shaking the chill off. It's always good when the truth is what his heart wants to shout when he's with Alec: "How else was I going to keep it with me all the time?"

Alec shakes his head. "You figure out what's going on with this thing?"

 _Yes_ , thinks Magnus, his heartbeats as rapid as a hummingbird's. All the lightness in Magnus from the last few minutes gives way to a terribly heavy tenderness. _I found out that you love me with such immense sincerity and such little guile that magic older than the earth came to protect me at your bequest._

Swallowing against his suddenly dry throat, Magnus murmurs, "I did. But before I get into that – let me look at you for a second, make sure the magic didn't leave anything behind." Alec is still kneeling on the ground, so it's no effort at all to lean over and take his beloved face in between his hands.

Alec says, "You've been looking at me for a lot longer than that already," but he stays still. Even when his mouth isn't smiling, Alec's eyes are impossibly warm as he looks at Magnus, soft and curious.

Magnus blinks and brings his warlock mark to life. There's a hitch in Alec's breath and oh, here is a first: seeing in real-time the hazel of Alec's irises be edged away by his dilating pupils, the unconscious parting of his mouth. Magnus tucks this knowledge away until he has the time to lay him down and explore this development with diligence. Instead, he reins in his focus and gazes through Alec's skin and bones until he arrives at his glowing, timeless essence.

It's still as unmarred as it ever was, a golden-silver-electric blue that's housed simultaneously inside Alec and somewhere else entirely, somewhere beyond the physical universe. It's still the most beautiful thing in the cosmos.

Magnus feels the knot in his stomach loosen as the one in his heart tightens. He's glad that Hiromi had been telling the truth – or rather, that she wasn't mistaken about the spell. He'd hate to have to consider what impossible price he'd have her pay to settle the debt of damaging the fabric of Alec's soul, however unintentionally. 

Still, it doesn't make him regret asking Hiromi to break the spell. 

Magic called upon by love does not ask for a personal gain and so the earth truly does not ask for a personal price. What a marvellous concept, thinks Magnus, and who better to stand testament to that than Alec Lightwood?

"All good?"

Alec's voice draws Magnus back to the sofa in his loft in Brooklyn. One more blink and he's looking at Alec's face once more. "All good," confirms Magnus, standing up and placing his hands on the wings of Alec's shoulderblades to draw him close. He tilts up his chin and Alec takes the cue to kiss him once more. "Perfect, really."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please feel free to drop a comment if you enjoyed :D


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